29 October 2010

The Chilean Mine Rescue

I was going to write about this topic several weeks ago but my views seemed to be in a minority and that put me off. You see, whilst the experts, the psychologists and behavioural gurus, were predicting all sorts of problems when the miners emerged from their ‘tomb’, I felt that it was all a load of baloney.

OK, when they were first trapped, I had concern like everybody else and that lasted for quite a few days when they were out of contact but once they were located and a food shaft was drilled and the full extent of their conditions became known, I changed my view.

These guys were in a cave or mine shaft which was probably larger than a big office. There was plenty of space despite the fact that there were 33 of them and so they had an environment where they could organise spaces for eating, sleeping, praying etc etc. Granted, I wouldn’t have liked to have been down there during those first days when they had no food and were in darkness but once the first shaft was drilled and they were given food, water and light, I would have been fascinated to have been with them and to study human behaviour in difficult circumstances at first hand.

I understand there were a few disagreements in their ‘confined’ space but I suspect we’ll never know the true story not having or understanding the Chilean press – the story as far as the West is concerned is finished – that’s it until the film comes out, which I’m sure will be fictioned up until it’s unrecognisable to those who were down there. 

I’m also sure there were the strong and the not-so strong but there should have been a ready-made hierarchy. There was bound to be a leader or a foreman down there with them and unless this guy crumbled, I would have thought that being the leader during a work shift, he would have carried on leading – I suspect we’ll never know.

But going back to the phsycobabblers who predicted all sorts of mental problems when the miners eventually reached the surface, the only trauma which has surfaced so far (excuse the pun) is that a few of them have said they have no intention of ever returning underground which is understandable but as for them all having deep psychological problems which would take years to abate, did you see them emerging from the mine? Apart from the sunglasses, they all looked and behaved perfectly normally. A few had some dental problems and one had the early stages of pneumonia but generally they looked good, many of them leaving imposed hospital stays within a day or so.   

They look happy despite losing 3-2
And now the miners are playing a football game against their rescuers. Stop press – they lost 3-2.
This story was a godsend for the TV networks and they had to hype up the story using experts to predict gloom and doom but I’m sure most of us never believe an expert when the TV stations are paying for their time and opinion.

And, as we had a happy ending here's a bit of fun .........

See they have started to bring up the Chilean miners? Juan by Juan.

The first task for the Chilean miners after their release is to visit Anfield - to advise Roy Hodgson on how to get out of a bloody big hole before Christmas

Chilean officials have said that they are working out a programme to simulate night and day in the mine to ensure the mental well-being of the men. Why don’t they switch the lights on and off?


Chilean miners haven’t seen sunlight in over 70 days – Big deal…
They should try living in Glasgow!

28 October 2010

Can't Be Bothered

This is my second day in bed with the flu. Every bone in my body aches, my head is thumping and my throat all scratchy. I'm taking pills galore when I never allow any medication down my throat and I'm sleeping 20 hours out of every 24! I bet the kids brought it home from school!

So, I can't really be bothered to write anything today but I always have a back-up plan so forgive me for just listing some jokes. Maybe you can all have a laugh whilst I shut my eyes and go back to sleep - ps - apologies to the blondes out there.

Here are some jokes – the first ten of which have recently been voted the best gags of all time. I’ll let you make your own minds up.

A woman gets on a bus with her baby. The driver says: "Ugh, that's the ugliest baby I've ever seen."
The woman walks to the rear of the bus and sits down, fuming. She says to a man next to her: "The driver just insulted me." The man says: "You go up there and tell him off. Go on, I'll hold your monkey for you.
I went to the zoo. There was only one dog in it. It was a shitzu.
A dyslexic man walks into a bra.
A young blonde fears her husband is having an affair. She goes to a gun shop and buys a handgun. The next day she finds him in bed with a redhead. She grabs the gun and holds it to her own head. The husband jumps off the bed and starts begging and pleading with her not to shoot herself. Hysterically, the blonde responds to the husband: "Shut up, you're next."
A classic from Tommy Cooper - I said to the gym instructor: "Can you teach me to do the splits?" He said: "How flexible are you?" I said: "I can't make Tuesdays."
Police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, the other was eating fireworks. They charged one - and let the other one off.
Two aerials meet on a roof, fall in love and get married. The reception was brilliant.
"Doc, I can't stop singing The Green, Green Grass of Home." He said: "That sounds like Tom Jones syndrome." "Is it common?" I asked. "It's not unusual," he replied.
A man walks into a bar with a roll of Tarmac under his arm and says: "Pint please, and one for the road."
A dizzy blonde is sitting at work one day when her phone rings. After answering the call, she bursts into tears and is quickly consoled by her workmates who ask what's wrong.
"It's my granny," she sobs, "she's dead!" A few minutes later, the blonde takes another call and this time she's absolutely inconsolable.
"What's wrong now?" asks her pal.
"That was my sister," she yells, "her granny has died as well...!"
And whilst we’re on ‘blonde’ jokes – here are a few more. Sorry girls.
What about the blonde who decided to surprise her husband by painting the house. When he returned from work he found her slumped in a corner sweating profusely. ‘Why are you wearing all that gear?’ he asked. ‘Because it says on the paint tin – for best results put on two coats.’
Two blondes were standing outside their sports car in the pouring rain. "I wish you hadn't locked the keys in the car," says one. "Tell me about it," says her pal. "The top's down and the seats are going to be soaked."

What's the most effective way of keeping a blonde busy? Hand her a bottle of shampoo with the instructions: "Lather, rinse and repeat."
Two blonde sisters were sent into the wood to cut down a Xmas tree. They searched and searched but they couldn’t find their ‘perfect’ tree. They searched for hours through knee deep snow and biting wind. Finally, five hours later with the sun beginning to go down, one blonde says to the other, "I can't take this anymore. I give up! There are hundreds of beautiful trees out here. Let's just pick one whether it's decorated or not!"
On the first day of training for parachute jumping, a blonde listened intently to the instructor. He told them to start preparing for landing when they are at 300 feet.
The blonde asked, "How am I supposed to know when I'm at 300 feet?"
"That's a good question. When you get to 300 feet, you can recognize the faces of people on the ground."
After pondering his answer, she asked, "What happens if there's no one there I know?"

27 October 2010

What’s Happening at Le Brin?

It’s great. I wake up in the mornings now and don’t have to think about the jungle or the brambles. What a relief. All I’ve got to do now is get the terraces flattish, rake up all the cuttings, burn them and then we should be in shape for next summer with lush green terraces to look out on. But then I look at my bank balance and the dosh I gave to the gardener and I get depressed again – hey ho!

Guy's Scoot in Bits
So what have I been doing? Well, working on Guy’s scooter to get it back into a condition where he can ride it again. We’ve been fixing the bodywork which was ripped to bits as the thieves tried to get into the various electrical circuits to hot-wire it. We’ve ordered the new ignition system and locks and hopefully it’ll be all fixed when he returns to lyceé next week following the half-term holiday.

I’m pleased to say that Shadow is back to normal after his illness and has resumed walking down to see his pals during the day. He still hates his medicine being squirted down his throat each morning but despite the fact that I tell him it’s for his own good, he still tries to do a runner when he sees the medicine bottle being removed from its box. Even the promise of some doggie treats if he behaves doesn’t work and I’ve just realised after some ten years or so that picking out three different coloured biscuits for him is a waste of time – dogs are colour blind!

As part of his recuperation, we put him on proper doogie food, i.e. meat, which we mixed with his biscuits but the problem is that when we run out of meat, he refuses to eat but we put this down to the fact that he’s French and protests if the slightest thing is not to his total satisfaction.

The cats on the other hand are bulking up for winter and as soon as they hear Shadow’s meat being brought out they go berserk, pushing him out of the way and gorging themselves on his ‘chicken and carrot gourmet meal’. The fact that they have a rat a night doesn’t seem to satisfy their carnivorous tendencies.
Still on the subject of food, we had lunch out yesterday at the Bar des Sports because the Midi was closed (their late summer closure for 1 month) only to find the whole Midi family sitting in their rival’s establishment having a slap up meal. It’s nice to see the village’s rival brasseries supporting each other but they do that anyway by agreeing when one establishment closes and the other remains open. A true cartel if ever there was one.

The weather is mixed at the moment with periods of really sunny days interspersed with days of driving rain but at least it’s not too cold. The fire still hasn’t been lit this year nor has the central heating been switched on yet which is unusual, but if truth be told, I can’t wait until we have a roaring log fire in the lounge.  Once it’s lit that’s it for the next six months – those who think the south of France is a sun drenched paradise are mistaken I’m afraid. It’s an easy climate to explain. In terms of UK weather, we have six months of hot summer, two months of a UK autumn, one month of winter and three months of spring. Not quite the 300 days of sunshine many think we get.

I’m hoping the weather stays settled this week as we’ve got some guests arriving for a long weekend and it should be interesting. Nicky used to be a client of mine in IBM and BT and I have a recollection of stumbling out of clubs with her and her fellow directors at 2am looking for somewhere to eat, only to have a kebab and then look for the next club! I don’t think I ever saw my bed until at least 6am but that’s what you had to do in Sales – the customer is always right – yeah !! Those days are long gone thank goodness and so, I hope, are Nicky’s all-night partying instincts!

And ....... I hab a cold.

26 October 2010

Deep Fried ....... Anything......Everything !

Having been brought up in Glasgow, I was introduced to fried food at an early age. Despite the fact that my mother was English and insisted on serving up vegetables at every opportunity, when a quick meal was required, fish and chips from the local chippie, was the answer. And of course, in those days in the sixties and seventies, there weren’t any McDonalds, Subways or kebab takeaways  around – the only place you could get a bit of food on the street was the local chippie.

Deep Fried Pizza
It didn’t take long either for the menu to expand from deep fried haddock and chips to exotic creations such as sausages in batter, deep fried hamburgers, haggis and even, my personal favourite, deep fried pizzas!

Those culinary delights disappeared however when I moved down south - there were no chippies in central London and although there was one solitary fish and chip shop in Maidenhead, my taste buds had moved on and I don’t think I used it once in the eight years I lived there. Dominos (pizzas) were by then the preferred option without a deep fried version anywhere in sight.

In Glasgow recently at my Chrysler reunion, I realised on the Friday night that I hadn’t eaten anything all day and as I took my pal Eddie back to the station to make sure he got his train, I nipped into the Blue Lagoon Chippie and there, lying on the hot plate was everything you ever wanted to eat – and all deep fried. I chose a deep fried hamburger in batter and ate it as I walked back to the hotel. It was absolutely delicious.

Given my liking of things deep fried, it will therefore come as no surprise to you that my Xmas present last year was a deep-fat fryer, but I have to say that it is used very sparingly and when I do use it, I’m as likely to make deep fired sage leaves in batter (a Provencal speciality) as I am chips.  The kids have been on at me to deep fry some brie in breadcrumbs, which I will eventually get round to doing I’m sure but I draw the line at deep fried Mars bars – what if the chocolate melts and messes up my fryer?

Deep Fried Beer Parcels
It was therefore with interest that I came across an article/video in the Telegraph about deep fried beer. Intrigued, I watched it and there it was – the Texas fair where amongst other things, you could buy deep fried dough (!), deep fried butter (a recipe for clogged arteries if ever there was one), deep fried caviar (!!) and a deep fried prezel dough batter parcel ...... with beer inside! The mind boggles.

What next ? Deep fried corn flakes or what about deep fried steak tartare in batter? Now that would be a culinary delight for the French. Their plate of uncooked minced steak with a raw egg on top, deep fried in batter but still retaining all of its raw salmonella characteristics when the batter parcel is opened. I can feel a new enterprise coming on.

 http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newsvideo/weirdnewsvideo/8058873/Fried-beer-invented-in-Texas.html

Deep Fried Sage Leaves
PS - and as if to prove a point, we had some friends over on Sunday night - J did a platter of sushi and spring rolls but I did a platter of fresh, picked from the garden 5 minutes before they were cooked, deep fried sage leaves. Needless to say, the sage leaves were the favourite, going down a storm.

25 October 2010

The Jungle Has Gone

Still a bit rough but it's cleared

Well, after two weeks of concerted effort by Thierry and his fellow worker, I now have a clear patch of terracing. The jungle has finally gone and I hope to keep on top of it so that I never again have to shell out wads of cash to people who do a job I should have done.

But, I have to say, from up on the terrace, the land looks quite good. It will look even better a few months from now when the grass has started to grow and some of the remaining weeds have died off. The big trick now will be to try and get each terrace into a state where I can use the lawn mower as opposed to the bushcutter – it’s much quicker and gives a more consistent cut and look once you’ve finished.

However, from down on the lane, looking up, the house looks rather stark. It’s been hidden by trees and bushes since it was built four years ago and I now have to devise a landscaping plan which softens the long stretch of pool wall visible to those who walk along Chemin de St Arnoux. Usually in these situations I just plant a few Virginia Creepers and within a couple of years, their lustrous leaves cover even the tallest of walls. It’s just the two or three year gap before you get a covering which is the frustrating bit. Unlike other bushes and plants which you can buy in various sizes , Virginia Creeper comes in small pots and really needs to get established against a wall before it takes off and spreads everywhere. The good thing is that it’s only when I’m down in St Arnoux that I’ll see the wall in questions so I’ll just learn not to look up at it – at least for the next couple of years.

After
I have to say though that Thierry was a lot quicker than I thought he’d be. A total of about 65 man hours I reckon was spent clearing the land and although I complained to J that that equated to something approaching 40 euros per hour, more than many other professionals earn, he did work like stink! The second way to look at it was that the final charge came out at 1 euro per 1 square metre of land and given that there were mountains of brambles, trees and other nasty thorny stuff to cut and burn, that seems a better  and much more financially acceptable way to look at it.

Thierry normally worked from 7.30am in the morning to sometimes 6.30pm at night but he had to go off early last week and have a heart operation only to return on Friday and continue to slash and burn with gusto. I’d hear his machines from up on the terrace (the house terrace not the land terrace) and I’d look down and all I could see was thorns, weeds and bits of tree being thrown into the air as he wandered through the undergrowth, devastating everything in his way. If only the Americans had used him in Vietnam – the country could have been cleared in days without the need for any agent orange!

Before
The only problem he had was listening and understanding. Trees I wanted kept were cut down and trees to be removed are still standing, but hey that’s a small price to pay to be able to see my garden for the first time in ten years!

I can’t wait to get down there with my mower now and really spruce it up.